Not Quite as Advertised

Fuck I’m exhausted.

Which words am I supposed to find, and arrange in perfect artistic harmony before the exhaustion worms it’s way from my bones, saturating my muscles and tendons?

The drum beat of my tired heart

Can’t I just take a nap? All the naps? I want to rest for a night or a lifetime.  

I want to feel strong again

Body is as body does 

Body tries at least

Tries to breathe, be productive, contribute to my family, to communicate, to understand, to convince people to see me as I am, not suited to this binary system, stim stim stimming my life happily away.  

I’ll take a hot bath, dark room, and fuzzy blanket for one please

Parameters of what I am and what I am allowed to be drawn and re-drawn in your personal context 

Come hell or high water they say

——–

————

Not your inspiration
Not your anything. 

———

————-

If only gravity didn’t weigh so heavily on me
Every cell in my body being dragged down into cold, dry, dust

I’m just so fucking tired

I reiterate ad nauseum 

The body no longer works as requested

As needed

Wheezing lungs, energy lost, pain creeping in and up 

——-

My reflection denies the labels of the flesh 

Angry 

hungry masses parcel my body 

Labeled with their personal gender expectations

-woman-woman-woman-woman-

Stamped in comic high relief 

hips and ass

Lips and tits

All this I refuse, leave it dripping off my fingertips 

To pool, curdling at my feet

Enough

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